


A Court of Deceit and Darkness

by witchybelle4u2



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: DEMA (Twenty One Pilots), Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Friendship/Love, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Imprisonment, M/M, Not Beta Read, Secret Mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchybelle4u2/pseuds/witchybelle4u2
Summary: “His Majesty, King Demalius, requests an audience.”Josh tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Requests?”The Faes gathered around the table watched intently—studiously pretending they were doing nothing of the sort. They couldn’t refuse a direct summons from the king of the Winter Realm... but a member of the Summer Court could.So could a human.
Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Kudos: 1





	A Court of Deceit and Darkness

Josh laughed loudly as the silver-clad guards approached. He threw back the remains of the wine in his goblet recklessly, as if every stomp of their boots didn’t send a stab of terror through his gut. A sable-haired girl with cat ears leaned across to whisper lascivious suggestions in his ear and Josh had to fight the urge to recoil when her hand landed on his thigh, her sleek whiskers tickling his cheek. It was almost a relief when the guards stopped behind him.

“You, Seelie.”

Spearing a fat plum on the end of his dagger, Josh tossed it into the air, easily catching the drupe as it fell. He winked at the cat-eared Fae before biting into the ripe fruit. Dark purple juice ran down his chin and onto his gold-embroidered doublet.

He didn’t acknowledge the troop of guards at his back.

_This was all part of the plan,_ Josh reminded himself, willing his fingers not to shake as he tilted the cat Fae’s chin up to plant a messy kiss on her lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair and took the kiss deeper, slipping her tongue between his lips. It was coarse, rasping against his in a way that made the heavy wine in his belly slosh unhappily.

A hand fell on his shoulder. “Nashua of the Seelie Court,” the guard said, “your presence is requested by His Majesty, The King.”

Josh’s heart hammered like wings of the pixies dancing in the air above their table. He had spent weeks preparing himself for this exact moment but, now that it had come, Josh was nearly crushed by the certainty that it wouldn’t work; that he would be killed before he could complete the task he’d been sent to perform.

The task that was the only thing keeping his sister alive.

His chest hurt when he thought of Ashley. _She’d love all this,_ he knew. The decadence, the debauchery, the riotous delights. Which was, of course, the problem. Ashley had always been the dreamer—the one who saw monsters in shadows and angels in the clouds. It was what made her such a brilliant poet.

And what had gotten her trapped under the thrall of a Fae courtier who’d laughed as he fed her mud she thought was the richest soup she’d ever tasted. By the time Josh had found his way into the hill hidden away in the forest on the edge of town, his sister had already started to waste away. Her strawberry blonde hair was matted beyond repair, her skin was sallow, and there were hollows in her cheeks he’d never seen before.

If he had taken any longer to find the secret entrance to Fae...

He shuddered at the thought.

_Focus!_ Josh scolded himself. _Screw this up now and you’re both doomed._

“Excuse me, dear,” he said to the cat Fae who’d somehow managed to crawl into his lap as they kissed. He set her aside and turned in his chair to gaze up at the guard. A sash of black and gold announced him as the Captain of the Guard. “Did you say something?” Josh asked, letting his words slur a little. No one needed to know he had a charm around his ankle that kept the potent Fae wine from muddling his thoughts.

The silver-armoured captain rolled his eyes impatiently. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being disobeyed. Unlike the others present, though, Josh wasn’t sworn to the Unseelie King and felt no compulsion to answer to his lackeys.

“His Majesty, King Demalius, requests an audience.”

Josh tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Requests?”

The Faes gathered around the table watched intently—studiously pretending they were doing nothing of the sort. _They_ couldn’t refuse a direct summons from the king of the Winter Realm... but a member of the Summer Court could.

So could a human.

Every Fae gathered around the table (and a few casually leaning over from their own tables to eavesdrop) knew the summons was no request. Even so, Josh appeared to be a visiting member of the Seelie Court. Certain niceties had to be observed to maintain the perilous peace between the courts.

_If only it were that easy..._

Josh’s job was to push that peace to the breaking point, without crossing it, in order to distract the king and his guards so a team of assassins could make their way into the palace. Hopefully, doing so without getting himself killed or exposed in the process.

That one was his priority, though he doubted Queen Genovefa would feel the same.

_Here we go,_ he thought. _Showtime._

Knocking his chair to the ground, Josh leapt to the table. His tail (Oh, he could _not_ get used to that!) slapped the captain across the face as he spun, arms wide. “An audience,” he declared to the now openly gawking onlookers, “requires a performance.”

Several voices raised in encouragement. Whoops and nervous applause filled the air. Fae liked nothing better than a spectacle.

A muscle ticked in the captain’s jaw.

_Cause a ruckus, don’t get killed. Cause a ruckus..._

Josh danced over platters of still-bleeding hearts, glazed fruits, and roasted nuts to knock aside the captain’s shiny helmet. Before he could react, Josh had knocked another three of the captain’s comrades’ helmets to the ground. Sweeping them up in one swift move, he used a sash pulled from the waist of a plump Fae (who looked more slug than) woman to string them together and loop them around his neck in a crude imitation of the quads he used to play for his high school marching band.

The guards lunged for Josh, but he danced out of their reach, both helped and hindered by the Fae falling over themselves at his antics. Snatching up a pair of elegant serving spoons, he beat out a cadence on the helmets. Several lesser Fae jumped to their feet and began to dance in time to the clanking rhythm. One, who appeared to be part badger and part... was that raven? was unceremoniously kicked out of the way. It flew across the room and landed on a courtier’s plate. Chaos ensued as several lesser Fae rushed to their companion’s aid.

“Enough!”

The booming command brought an instant end to the madness. Well... nearly. Only Josh, unbound by fealty, continued his improvised drumming several beats too long.

“...and upon his throne he sat his fat aaaaa... ah.”

The comical song ended in an awkward cough.

Ruckus caused. He certainly had the king and guards’ attentions. Now, he just had to stay alive.

If the look of fury on the captain’s face as he snatched back his helmet was any indicator, that would be easier said than done.

The king, at least, seemed more amused than annoyed. That boded well.

“Summer visitor,” King Demalius said, “while your antics are... diverting, I would speak with you.” His voice, though not raised, carried easily across the large room.

Josh didn’t _have_ to obey the Unseelie king but, at such a time, obedience seemed prudent. Oh, and he was freaking terrified. That too.

He hopped off the table with less grace than he’d ascended, tail drooping. The guards stood by just in case he failed to grant their king the audience he required. And, of course, to reclaim their helmets. It would be a great source of amusement to their fellows that they had lost their helmets to a Summer Fae, since they all knew the Summer Fae were too soft for anything but daydreams and making love.

_Boy,_ Josh thought, remembering his brief yet exhausting education at the unforgiving hands of the Summer guards, _do these guys have a lot to learn._ The Summer Fae, as far as Josh could tell, were every bit as vicious as their darker cousins.

Which was why, when the Seelie queen offered Josh a chance to free his sister— _one_ chance, she’d clarified—Josh had agreed without hesitation. Magick was magick, whether it glittered like sunlight or shimmered like frost. The deadly, ruby encrusted swords at the guards’ sides were, surprisingly, the least of Josh’s concerns.

If any of the charms secreted upon his person failed during his time in the Winter realm... Death would be preferable. He tried not to glance at the trio of humans hanging upside from the ceiling as he made his way to the dais at the back of the room. They smiled blankly, drool sliding down their cheeks. Their faces were purple and swollen with blood; it made him think of the overripe plum bursting on his tongue. Josh swallowed back bile but kept what he hoped was a cheeky grin plastered to his own face.

At the foot of the obsidian dais, Josh bowed—just low enough to be respectful but with an unnecessary and flamboyant flourish that was anything but. King Demalius’s lip twitched as Josh rose. It grew into a smirk when Josh said, “Your Majesty, thank you for your hospitality.” He had deliberately failed to acknowledge any of the king’s plentiful sons.

Four smaller thrones sat either side of the king’s enormous, imposing throne of obsidian. A surly, sharp-featured Fae sat on each. They all looked more or less the same to Josh, but most of the Winter Fae did. They all seemed to be pale-skinned and dark-haired with cheekbones that could cut and sullen lips that looked like they would taste of poison. Josh didn’t try telling them apart since they were each as unimportant to his plan as the other. The only ones he needed to concern himself with were King Demalius and his only rightful heir, Prince Keonsha.

The Winter queen had met an untimely demise more than a decade before. King Demalius had eschewed forming another partnership—though he was, as the multiple thrones attested, eager enough to welcome many high Fae into his bed. It was an honour to be singled out so, yet a death sentence if the affair resulted in an heir. Rumour had it that King Demalius killed the mothers of his children so that they could form no bond against him. His greatest pleasure in life was said to be pitting his sons against each other, delighting in watching them fight for the throne none of them would ever sit upon.

As King Demalius’s only legitimate heir, Prince Keonsha was safe from such games. He, instead, spent his days practicing the detached cruelty their father was known for. Sitting upon a throne larger than any of his brothers’ (but still suitably dwarfed by his father’s,) Prince Keonsha demanded respect by simply _being_. An enormous vulture perched on the back of the prince’s throne, peering beadily at the bells woven into Josh’s chestnut curls.

Josh eyed the bird back warily as he waited for the king’s reply.

“Nashua of the Summer Realm,” King Demalius said finally, making Josh cringe internally. It was close enough to his real name that he’d remember to answer to it, but different enough that it grated. “What greeting does our dear cousin, Queen Genovefa send?”

Aha. The _real_ problem with the plan. (Aside from the whole death thing.) If Josh in any way implicated the queen, they wouldn’t be able to pull off the next step without starting a war. More importantly, if Josh _didn’t_ pull it off without starting a war, his sister would be the one to pay the price. He couldn’t let that happen.

Lifting one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, Josh answered, “How should I know? I answer to no queen.”

The king’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Shocked gasps rang out around Josh. It was common knowledge that the fair folk couldn’t lie so there was no doubt he meant it. King Demalius stroked his short, closely trimmed beard. “Perhaps you have come, instead, to swear fealty to the Winter Court?”

Finally, Josh looked up and down the dais, letting judgement infuse his features. “Hardly.”

King Demalius raised a hand to silence the murmurs that filled the room. “You come without greeting from your queen, insist you owe her no fealty, and refuse to join our own esteemed court?” Gripping the arms of his throne with fingers that were disconcertingly long, the king leaned forward. “Then pray tell, Nashua of Nowhere, what error in judgement has brought you to my palace?”

The question was a warning, plain and simple. If Josh didn’t come up with something (and _quick_ ,) he might die before the Seelie assassins could complete their mission. He shrugged again. “I was bored,” he answered. Then, he waited, barely daring to breathe as the king measured him up.

And, after what felt like an eternity, he burst into laughter. It fell from his lips like broken glass.

“Indeed!” King Demalius clapped his bony hands together in delight. “Our hall has been too sombre of late. Perhaps you are just what we need to lighten the evening.”

_Well,_ that _went better than I was expecting..._

“In fact, I am so diverted, I believe I shall have some sport.”

_Uh oh..._ That didn’t sound good.

“What say you, Keonsha? Shall we devise a game to play with our new friend?”

The prince looked as if sneering down his nose at Josh took entirely too much work to be worth the effort. “If it pleases you, Father.” The massive bird at his shoulder grunted once; the raspy, breathless sound dragged down Josh’s spine.

“‘Yes, Father’, ‘No, Father,’” the king mocked. “You’re all the same. Get out of my sight, all of you!”

For a long moment, no one moved. Then, without sparing the king a glance, Keonsha rose to his feet and crossed to the exit. His pet vulture flew after him. His brothers seemed less happy about being ejected from the great hall. More than one leveled a glare full of menace at Josh as they passed.

A chill ran through Josh with each icy glare. Secretly, he applauded himself. He’d managed to sow discord between the king and his sons without even trying. Queen Genovefa would be thrilled. He just hoped he lived long enough to enjoy the victory.

“My simpering children have become tedious. Come,” King Demalius gestured to the glossy black floor of the dais, “entertain me.”

As if sitting at his feet like a dog would be a blessing. Except, of course, for the majority of those present—especially the lesser Fae, who had next to no social standing at court—would kill to take Josh’s place.

_They might get a chance,_ Josh thought. His head ached with the task of remembering the Fae etiquette he’d had just weeks to learn the finer details of. How far could he push the king without going too far? What loophole would keep him from being fed to the redcaps? _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

Josh didn’t refuse the offer but neither did he move. Instead, he feigned a loud yawn, wincing internally at the withering glance the king gave him in response. Pretending not to notice (which was difficult, given his guts had turned to ice,) Josh asked, “What’s in it for me?”

The question hung heavy in the air, buoyed by the tide of shocked indignation from the Winter courtiers. King Demalius tapped his fingers against the throne’s armrests as he studied Josh, who was finding it harder and harder not to squirm under the king’s attention.

Finally, he spoke. “You were welcomed into my hall. You supped on my food. You tasted my women. Do you find these delights in some way lacking?”

Now Josh was on dangerous ground. If he straight up insulted King Demallius, he might call for Josh’s head. If he expressed too much gratitude, he’d wind up playing the king’s fool until the end of time. Neither option appealed to Josh very much.

_Option three it is..._

“The women were... delightful,” he began. “The food exquisite. The welcome...” Josh motioned to the guards who, dignity insulted, surrounded him in a semi-circle, swords drawn. “Do you welcome all guests so?”

The insult was implied, but not direct. Perfectly weighted and so, so exhausting. Damn, he was tired of playing Fae word games.

King Demalius drew himself up to his full, surprisingly considerable height. He descended the stone steps to loom over Josh. Instinctively recoiling, Josh felt the sharp tip of a blade press into his back. He doubted it was an accident on the guard’s part.

“I see. So, you find my hospitality wanting.” His voice remained calm, but his eyes burned with cold fury. “Perhaps a few nights in the dungeon will make you more appreciative of the luxuries about you. Guards, see our guest to a cell.” With that, Josh was dismissed. King Demalius swept from the room without a look back to see if his command was being executed.

Well, that was... easy. Easier than he’d anticipated, anyway. Josh actually allowed himself a small smile—until the guards surrounded him, a little too happy to carry out the king’s orders. A hand fell on Josh’s shoulder, making him start.

“The king has ordered us to deliver you to the dungeons,” the captain announced unnecessarily. “He did not, however, specify which route we should take.”

One of the others spoke up. “The west wing is currently unoccupied,” he mused. “No one around to catch our guest if he were to... fall.”

Josh panicked. _No!_ The Seelie assassins were making their entrance through the unused west wing. The guards couldn’t be allowed in that part of the palace. He tried to summon a schematic of the winding halls, but his memory was hazy. _Just have to wing it,_ he decided.

“Your king boasts of hospitality and you intend to show me nothing but empty rooms?” Josh taunted. “That’s unlikely to change my mind.”

The captain narrowed his eyes, as if he could actually see Josh’s subterfuge, but eventually he smiled. His teeth, Josh realized, were sharp and looked more deadly than the sword at his waist. “You’re right, of course. We will give you the grand tour.”

The other guard looked disappointed, but only for a moment. “Yes,” he agreed after a pointed look from his captain, “let us begin on the third floor.”

They hauled Josh from the room with more force than necessary, since Josh went willingly. As they left, the feast continued as if nothing had happened.

“Mind your step,” one of the guards warned as they mounted the grand staircase. “The stairs are positively lethal.” A hand nudged the small of Josh’s back roughly, for emphasis.

Josh stumbled, barely catching himself before tumbling down the stairs.

That time.

There were as many different types of Fae as there were stars in the sky, yet they all had two things in common. One, they were incapable of lying. Oh, they could evade and tie the truth up in so many riddles it was nearly impossible to decipher, but they couldn’t lie outright. Two, they couldn’t disobey a direct order from their king or queen. They didn’t have to swear fealty to any royal, of course, but not doing so left them open to all matter of nastiness from the courts and means of retaliation.

The second fact was on Josh’s mind as the guards dragged his tired, aching, broken body down the stairs to the dungeon with a _thump, thump, thump_ that made his teeth clatter. King Demalius had only ordered his guards to ‘see our guest to a cell,’ not ‘see him _safely_ to a cell’ or even ‘see him in _one piece_ to a cell.’ The guards had taken advantage of the order’s vagueness to repay Josh for his earlier humiliation.

_Yeah,_ he thought as the heavy iron door of his cell swung shut, _I probably deserved that._

He tried to push himself up, only to fall flat when his wrist ( _Please be a sprain..._ ) screamed in protest and gave out on him. Laying there on the cold stone floor, staring through the bars into a pitch-black corridor, Josh could only hope that the assassins had been able to make their entrance and that his rescuers would be quick.

And that... you know... they _remembered_ they were supposed to be rescuing him. Fae were notoriously capricious.

“Please don’t forget me,” he pleaded into the darkness.

A bark of sound sent Josh scrambling back from the bars. His senses, dulled by the throbbing of various injuries, went into overdrive, looking for the source. Nothing. _I can’t_ see _anything!_

Then, with a whisper of movement and a subtle shift of shadows, two red lights appeared in the darkness. No, not lights... _eyes_. At first, Josh was irrationally pleased to know he wasn’t alone. Then, it occurred to him to worry how bad a Fae must be to end up in an Unseelie dungeon.

A third light flared. The ball of red fire hovered above a hand darker than the blackness that surrounded them, illuminating the cell across from Josh’s own and its occupant, a dark-haired Unseelie Fae with scarlet goat’s horns that twisted up and away from his forehead. Strange symbols of the same color twisted through the blackness of his forearms and neck.

The imprisoned Fae’s lips twisted into something resembling a smile marred by a scar that dissected both upper and lower lip on one side. Another scar ran across the bridge of his nose, while smaller ones like scratch marks stretched across one cheekbone.

Josh shivered. His only companion in the darkness was fucking _terrifying_.

“Stay down here long enough,” the strange Fae told Josh, “and you’ll pray they forget you.” With that, he flicked his wrist, extinguishing the fireball, and backed into the cell, leaving Josh with nothing but darkness, fear, and pain.


End file.
